No he didn’t spend the night because assholes don’t spend the night. It was 4am and it started to pour rain. I always wonder in this beautiful city of LA filled the millions of stories and a collection of people, why is it I’m the only one who’ll run in the rain? By legend, not only does it rain just once a year, but for the first time in a stretch it fucking poured real water. He snuck out my front door without saying bye and when I heard the door shut that it, that hopeful feeling of being wanted faded. I ran for my light and by the end of that run I knew I had made the most out of what the universe just gave me – with the rain and him. Like the end of the new year, when I know it’s over and I wish I could have done it different, it’s always devastating, but thenmy heart speaks to me and tells me to get up and just go. KEEP READING👀

As protestors flock into Washington DC for tomorrow’s (October 4, 2018) much larger protest than last week and the entire country believes headlines and what they see in photos with #hashtags, you probably should know the truth 👁behind what September 27th, 2018 was really like.

DC Protests are a likers paradise, a lurkers play pin, and an internet troll’s live dream post stream.

She was the E and I was the S, the last S in the word ABUSERS. On a true humid demon mosquito filled night in the south, I found myself in front of the White House with ‘peaceful’ protesters called the Kremlin Annex; they refer to Trump as Putin’s assistant. They had been protesting for 72 days straight. Each night a very dedicated group of what appeared to be seniors in lime vests holds up happily lit letters with a new word or phrase and a really cool smooth criminally guy sings in a mic while the letter holders do the wave. From “Cover Up” to “Perjury” to “Call In FBI.” With a mere 900 followers on Facebook and in a time of demmies and flatulators and #hashtags, it’s odd that no one really knows about the Kremlin Annex. They dance in front of White House every night for phucks sake. I showed up on the full moon’s eve of the word “Abusers.” KEEP READING👀

We just ate the whole cake. That’s right, if you watched IT, then you were just forced to eat the whole fucking cake without knowing what was underneath the frosting.🎂

Do you taste it? The after?… That flavor is a pallet that just doesn’t go away after a rinse; it’s the smell lurking type.👃🏾

The theme of this article is “what isn’t being said after it was all said.” Scared to be too late into the Glover dance analyzation game, after 5 days of rewrites, no sleep, and deep hesitation about what is wrong or right to say, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’d rather fail big than fail small. I have to do what I feel. Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant broke the record for the most shots in the NBA, but what no one ever talks about is that they also have the most missed shots. You gotta keep throwing shit out there. I never want to hurt anyone and don’t intend to. If I’m wrong, then I’m wrong. Make sense of what you will, this is just my art, my rap track. Being culturally appropriate here at TLG. 👊🏽

Here we go. After eating Glover’s whole cake, I drove through one of the blackest streets in America blasting Donald Glover’s This is America, something felt so wrong about publicly playing that song as black people glanced, like I was exposing it to cultural appropriation, and for playing it and not being black. There’s an entire conversation about Glover’s video that we aren’t having. What isn’t being talked about is, is it appropriate for a non-black person to enjoy the song and dance to it? What’s appropriate? Intention is. Moral is.

After cruising through the streets whilst during a media triad of Glover, the Met Gala, and Kanye’s free thoughts, this story came to me. It’s what I thought of, so I wrote it. Here we go. Fail big.

The west changes faster than the wild. The Harbinger Gorilla.

There once was a King Silverback Gorilla. He looked after his own, kept his family safe from outsiders, and knew that his type were being hunted and on the verge of extinction. He could always foretell when danger lurked and taught others how to spot it. He was brave and in moments when an attacker approached, he would beat his chest, growl, and doing everything he could to distract the danger until his pack family could flee to safety. When he and his family weren’t running from poachers and had a moment to rest, he’d find a grassy patch were the sun shined and he’d begin to sing. His family would often join in with the hums and hoos. The King was growing old and was tired. He had a big heart and always hoped that the poachers from the West could exist with gorillas peacefully like the rest of the Wild. One day, whilst happily in the free sun, the King was relaxed and saw several poachers coming forth. Un-instinctually and sun-dazed, he thought “maybe if I showed them I was friendly, they’d come join and sing with us.” He started to hum and dance to distract the poachers, but his family got confused. “Why would King hum and not growl?” Because they followed King, the rest of the pack joined in and sang and danced in front of the men with guns. The poachers had never seen something like this before. “Gorillas dancing? What a rare thing to join in on.” So the poachers joined in and danced with the primates and even locked both their five-finger-hands, but as time passed and the gorillas were ready to retreat to the forest, the hums stopped and thats when the poachers were no longer distracted. It was fun, but unlike gorillas, poachers are carnivores and they had to feed with a their bounties. So as the gorillas waved goodbye and turned their trusted backs, a poacher made a monkey sound, “oo ah ah”, KEEP READING👀

Haven’t you heard? Oppressed Asian girls went bippity boppity boo and got a badass makeover to prove they were just as legally American as a blonde.

So many once quiet and submissive silky dark haired asian women bleached their hair and ganged together that they made an emoji of us!

The New York Times, just reported that Asian girls were bleaching their hair as an act of rebellion, to mimic Asian celebrities rather than white Americans, to signal generational difference of thought from their parents, and to take back identity with hair bleach! Asian girls didn’t have identity before their hair turned white…. Duh! In fact no brunette has an identity before they go blonde.

Brunettes who want to “shake up their look” and happen to be asian are worthy of a New York fucking Times feature. Sorry white girls, you’re not newsworthy. KEEP READING👀

I’m Mel-a-n-i-e

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

Made when no one was watching, I'm no one, not yet. Rules do not apply to me and often find myself searching for the impossible simply to prove it isn’t. Hyper-critical, every day I’m a different person. I’m a time keeper, never late and always on the dot in fear losing time and wondering "what if." I’ve learned time doesn’t wait for you.

After years of creating identities and building brands for other people, I'm finally creating my own. No more mind body crystal bullshit "influencers." I finally know what I want, and that is to be and do everything. I was told you can’t be everything, but game on. I'm best at writing from experience or I won't write, so this editorial has no rules. Like myself, it’s a rare exotic breed that might die if you try to catch it.

TLG was 92% designed & manifested by Melanie. The other 8% is a sandbox of Disney icons, classical art, & loved music. #legitAF